m not finished with
you yet,” he murmurs and leaning up, he kisses me.
I lie naked in Christian’s bed, sprawled over his chest,
panting. Holy cow—does his energy ever wane? Christian
trails his fingers up and down my back.
“Satisfied, Miss Steele?”
I murmur my assent. I ha一ve no energy left for talking.
Raising my head, I turn unfocused eyes to him and bask in
his warm, fond gaze. Very deliberately, I angle my head
down so he knows I am going to kiss his chest.
He tenses momentarily, and I plant a soft kiss in his
chest hair, breathing in his unique Christian smell, mixed
with sweat and sex. It’s heady. He rolls onto his side so
I’m lying beside him and gazes down at me.
“Is sex like this for everyone? I’m surprised anyone
ever goes out,” I murmur, feeling suddenly shy.
He grins. “I can’t speak for everyone, but it’s pretty
He grins. “I can’t speak for everyone, but it’s pretty
damned special with you, Anastasia.” He bends and kisses
me.
“That’s because you’re pretty damned special, Mr.
Grey,” I agree, smiling up at him and caressing his face. He
blinks down at me at a loss.
“It’s late. Go to sleep,” he says. He kisses me, then lies
down and pulls me to him so we’re spooning in bed.
“You don’t like compliments.”
“Go to sleep, Anastasia.”
Hmm . . . But he is pretty damned special. Jeez . . .
why doesn’t he realize this?
“I loved the house,” I murmur.
He says nothing for a moment, but I sense his grin.
“I love you. Go to sleep.” He nuzzles my hair, and I
drift into sleep, safe in his arms, dreaming of sunsets and
French doors and wide staircases . . . and a small copperhaired
boy running through a meadow, laughing and
giggling as I chase him.
“Gotta go, baby.” Christian kisses me just below my ear.
I open my eyes and it’s morning. I turn to face him, but
he’s up and dressed and fresh and delicious, leaning over
me.
“What time is it?” Oh no . . . I don’t want to be late.
“What time is it?” Oh no . . . I don’t want to be late.
“Don’t panic. I ha一ve a breakfast meeting.”
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